


Work in Progress

by 1_NoName_among_many



Series: Half a King, at Best [1]
Category: Red White & Royal Blue - Casey McQuiston
Genre: Although I think she'd prefer to just be "Martha Fox", And I guess technically Senator Diaz?, And Senator Luna, And Senator Richards too, Arthur Fox (Philip and Bea and Henry's dad) is mentioned too, Canon Compliant, For reasons that will become obvious, Gen, I completely forgot about June and Nora, I'm assuming Martha took her husband's name upon marriage, Like with Philip in chapter 5, Mazzy does her best to avoid swearing, Oh! I forgot about President Claremont!, Peri-Canon, Princess Catherine is mentioned but does not actually appear, She gets a mention too, Swearing, The most are in chapter 3, The worst is in chapter 4, Unless she's really really angry, because why wouldn't she?, but screw him, they get mentioned too
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-15
Updated: 2020-03-15
Packaged: 2021-03-01 03:20:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 3,954
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23088463
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/1_NoName_among_many/pseuds/1_NoName_among_many
Summary: What was Princess Martha doing all through Alex and Henry's whirlwind romance?Why was Philip such a jerk (to put it mildly) and why did he have a change of heart, however small?And, most importantly, why was Alex of all people invited to Philip and Martha's wedding?
Relationships: Alex Claremont-Diaz/Henry Fox-Mountchristen-Windsor, Martha Fox-Mountchristen-Windsor & Percy "Pez" Okonjo, Philip Fox-Mountchristen-Windsor/Martha Fox-Mountchristen-Windsor
Series: Half a King, at Best [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1664290
Comments: 13
Kudos: 79





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first fic for this site. I spent _way_ too much time editing it. 
> 
> I still don't have a good title. Any suggestions would be appreciated!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mazzy's new title is "Duchess of York" because Henry's comment about how he and his brother went to school as "Wales" implies Princess Catherine is Princess of Wales in her own right, while Philip's comment about how Alex would become "Duchess of Cambridge" implied that Mazzy isn't. Since Prince Andrew (like Prince Charles) doesn't exist in this universe, I assumed he wouldn't mind if I borrowed his title for Philip.
> 
> Also, I'm calling her "Mazzy" because that's Philip's pet name for her and I like to think she prefers it to "Martha".

Sixty thousand pounds! Sixty thousand gosh darned pounds worth of buttercream and genoise sponge! And she never even got to taste it!  
The new Duchess of York took a deep breath  
She thought about this logically. Politically. Rationally. Coldly.  
She knew something like this might happen. Expected it. Hoped for it, even! It’s why she invited Alex to the wedding in the first place.  
Now the Crown and the dragon beneath it would be obligated to force those two lovebirds together. Their constant mooning and flirting and fighting was getting too much for her, taking too long to get where she needed it to get.  
She glanced meaningfully at her new husband, the love of her life, and hoped it would all be worth it.

“Guess who just got invited to the Legendary Balls-Out Bananas White House Trio New Year’s Eve Party!”  
“The what?” Mazzy had picked up the phone to find Percy Okonjo, her unlikely co-conspirator, babbling on the other end. He and she were both at the Rio Olympics and had both noticed the chemistry between the soon-to-be first son and the mourning prince.  
Pez sighed over the line. “Better known as the Young America New Year’s Eve Gala.”  
“Oh,” Mazzy said. “Henry?”  
“Henry! I think things are going to go well. If not for him, then at least for me.”  
“Pez, before you start babbling about June, please let me remind you that I am not that kind of friend.”  
“We’re friends?”  
“You know what I meant!”

Mazzy had hoped the gala would finally get things started. But then Henry ran home frantic on New Year’s Day.  
As January dragged on, Henry curled up into himself, walled himself up in an agonizingly chaste tabloid scandal that really must have torn Alex to pieces.  
She hoped it did. Then that little brown demon would have all the more reason to tear Henry to pieces.

After the state dinner at the White House, Henry was, not exactly happier, but freer. Lighter.  
The polo match in Connecticut a few weeks later only confirmed her suspicions. Especially when Henry and Alex disappeared into that tack room. It was a good thing she was there to distract the paparazzo.  
“Oh, I must say, sir,” she said as she accosted him, “it’s such a shame my darling Pip couldn’t be here with me!”  
“Sorry lady, but I’m a little busy right now.”  
“Do you not know who I am? I am Princess Consort Martha Fox-Mountchristen-Windsor, Duchess of York, third in line to be Queen of England!”  
“Whatever, lady,” he looked around. “Ah man, I lost ‘em!”  
“Lost whom?”  
“None of your business! Now get lost!”  
Mazzy smiled somewhat maliciously to herself. That paparazzo would get what’s coming to him one day, but at least Henry and Alex could have their fun in peace.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The snippet of conversation between Philip, Henry and Beatrice in the Royal Box is taken directly from Red, White & Royal Blue. I've removed the dialogue tags and inserted Mazzy's internal monologue though.

Mazzy followed their affair in the tabloids, what little leaked through.  
Henry getting out of the wind-energy summit in Germany to walk about Paris with Alex.  
Henry rescheduling his nonprofit business to coincide with Alex’s birthday.  
That gala in Berlin where Alex came out from his room with what was very clearly a hickey on his neck.  
The little graduation celebration Pez threw for the lot. 

It came to a head when Henry invited Alex to the Royal Box at Wimbledon (“Our little boy is finally growing up!” “He’s not ‘our’ little boy, Pez!”).  
When Mazzy and her darling Philip finally showed up, Henry and Alex were a sight to see, but only if you knew what to look for. Alex noticed her noticing him, then quickly glanced away in shame. She had to admit, that cake-tastrophe, as _The Sun_ had called it, did allow her to work her magic unnoticed.  
It wasn’t long after the pleasantries were exchanged before Philip started tearing into Henry again.  
“They're called dashikis, Philip! And he wore one _once_.”  
“Right. You know I don’t judge. I just think, you know, remember when we were younger and you’d spend time with my mates from uni?” Mazzy had to bite her tongue at that. If only Philip knew. “Or Lady Agatha’s son, the one that’s always quail hunting?” Mazzy busily buried her nose in her brochure to hide the goofy grin spreading on her face. Dear Pippy can be so infuriatingly, endearingly oblivious sometimes. “You could consider more mates of… similar standing.”  
“We can’t all be best mates with the Count of Monpezat like you, Philip.”  
“In any event, you’re unlikely to find a wife–” Mazzy stiffened up at that. The smile dead on her face, replaced with a most serious and disapproving frown. The blood rushed through her ears, deafening the conversation. She didn’t notice Henry leaving. She almost didn’t notice Alex leaving ten minutes later. Almost.

“Beatrice, darling,” she turned to her sister-in-law. “Could you get us something to drink?” A silly excuse, what with all the waiters, but Beatrice wanted an out too, and leapt at the chance.  
Then Mazzy turned on her dearest, darling husband. “Philip, you d– you _damned_ fool!” It took her a serious effort to swear, and he knew this. “You do realize that Henry doesn’t need a wife," she continued. "That’s what I’m for.”  
“I know Mazzy, but neither of us like children, and—”  
“That doesn’t matter. My parents hated children too, but they both loved me, and all my sisters. And yes, they got exhausted all the time, and we spent most of our time with nannies and governesses, but they loved us all the same. It’s always different with your own children.”  
Philip’s eyes narrowed. “You're matchmaking again, aren’t you?” he whispered. “You don’t seriously believe that Henry and Alexander are courting, do you?”  
“Considering the fact that spiting you is one of Henry’s major turn-ons,” Mazzy relished the grimace her husband was about to pull, “I will bet you a hundred-to-one that Henry and Alex are having sex in a cloakroom right this instant.”  
The grimace was, in fact, glorious.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The snippet of conversation between Alex and Henry in the Kensington garden is taken directly from Red, White & Royal Blue. I've removed the dialogue tags (and the lines that wouldn't have been shouted) and inserted Mazzy's internal monologue though.

Luna turned coat. Henry very conspicuously stayed behind. ("I'm telling you Pez, he's infiltrating the campaign to tear Richards down from the inside!")  
The DNC happened. Alex very, very conspicuously stopped working on the campaign. ("Such a shame, really. He's valuable publicity.")  
Henry very, very, very conspicuously went to be with Alex at his father’s lakehouse. (“Shut up about how Henry is stealing your girlfriends Pez! What part of ‘not that kind of friend’ didn’t you understand the first dozen or so times!”)  
But then disaster. Henry ran away, walled himself up again. No agonizingly chaste tabloid scandal this time, but that only made it worse.  
Mazzy insisted on catastrophically redecorating Anmer Hall, and then insisted they stay in Philip’s old rooms at Kensington. Philip, being Royal Air Force, wasn’t one to wonder why. And honestly, she wasn’t so sure why either, until it happened. 

Philip, hopped up on melatonin and ears plugged and eyes masked and snoring away in the infuriatingly cute way he does, heard absolutely none of it, but Mazzy, anxious and sleepless and trying to distract herself with a book, heard it all.  
“Goddammit– Henry! Henry you motherf-cker! Henry, you piece of sh-t, get your -ss down here!” Such language! Darn it Henry, let him in! “Yeah? How ‘bout I just keep yelling and see which of the papers show up first!” She never noticed that drawl before. I guess— No, not important. “Henry! Your Royal f-cking Highness!” How dare he disrespect the— No! Not important!  
“For Christ’s sake, Alex, what are you doing?” Oh thank goodness!  
But then the yelling stopped, or at least went inside. For an agonizing hour, Mazzy waited, hoped, prayed, begged, that all would be well. After that hour, she couldn’t take it anymore. She got out of bed, put a robe over her nightgown, and crept over to Henry’s apartments. Listening at the keyhole, all she could hear was slightly erotic moaning. She ran off, disgusted, but satisfied.  
Maybe now Henry would fight for himself.  
And maybe now Philip would finally be forced to make the right decision.

She slept well that night, and straight through breakfast the following morning. Philip brought some up to her, plain toast and a cup of breakfast tea.  
“Henry was very peculiar this morning,” he said.  
“Oh?” Mazzy smiled knowingly. “Peculiar how?”  
“Well, he wasn’t nearly as morose as he’s been all week.”  
“I see.”  
“And he went for a run, but his signet ring was missing. I didn’t comment on it, but it was so glaringly obvious. I hope he hasn’t lost it.”  
“Oh, me neither.”  
“I talked about land holdings and future heirs and—” He noticed his wife stiffening up again. “What’s wrong?”  
“Your heirs, or his heirs?”  
“Mine, Mazzy. Ours.”  
She relaxed. “Good.”  
“Why are you so insistent that Henry find a husband?”  
“Because I want you to be happy, Philip.”  
“I would be happier if he found a wife. Perpetuated the family legacy.”  
“No you wouldn’t. Because Henry wouldn’t be happy, and I don’t care what you say, but you want your family to be happy.”  
Now it was Philip's turn to stiffen up. “I do not.”  
“Then why did you sell your soul to Her Majesty to get your father the burial he so richly deserved?”  
“How many times do I have to tell you, I did that to be Duke of York!”  
“But you didn’t need to. You never needed to.”  
“I do not like talking about this, Mazzy. Please let us not.”  
His wife sighed. “Yes dear.”

Beatrice making a conspicuous exit at the north entrance did not divert Mazzy’s attention from the south entrance.  
Quite the contrary, in fact. She very deliberately caught a glimpse of Henry and Alex making a beeline for the V&A.  
She smiled at that.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning: Philip says the _real_ f-word. Or, as I like to call it, the gay n-word. It's censored and he gets smacked for it, but still.

The following week was disastrous. 

First, Philip made a very ill-advised comment about military service, and Henry dropped the bombshell on him. It did not go well for anyone.  
“How many times do I have to tell you, Philip! Henry is not like you, like either of us!”  
“Well, obviously! _We_ aren’t f----ts!”  
Mazzy had no choice but to slap him for that.  
“That is not what I meant and you know it! He does not want to play the game of monarchy! He does not want to perpetuate the d- the _damned_ legacy and tedious _sh-te_ we do. And frankly, neither do I.”  
“Mazzy!”  
“I’m sorry, Philip, but it’s true! I want to lead this nation, I don’t want to be led by it, led by that dragon who calls herself queen. And to do that, I need to put my mark on it, to tear it from her grasp! To tear _you_ from her grasp!”  
“Martha, I swear, if you put Henry up to this—”  
“ _I_ didn’t. _Alex_ did. All I did was sacrifice our wedding cake.”  
“You– That’s why you invited Alexander? You told me it was to make President Claremont happy!”  
“That is what I told you, yes.”  
The couple stared at each other in empty silence. Then Philip raised his eyebrows, as realization struck.  
“You still don’t like Gran, do you?”  
“I never liked her, Philip, no.” Mazzy began to tear up. “But this is more than mere not liking, more, even, than mere disliking. This is hot-blooded, high-strung, absolute _hatred_. And I have told you a thousand times over why I hate her, you—” She slapped her hand over her mouth, to keep the curse from slipping out. “Bastard” was the one curse she had no trouble saying, but it was also the one curse Philip could not stomach. Too close to home.  
Philip noticed. “Let us agree to disagree,” he replied. Clipped and polished, like he was making some speech before Parliament.  
“Yes, let’s.” Mazzy’s mouth had gone dry.

The leak at the Beekman and the subsequent media storm about Henry with June and Alex with Nora did not make her feel any better.  
“Maz, are you okay?” Pez had called her up.  
“We are not that kind of friends Pez!”  
A few seconds of silence.  
“And yet, you haven't hung up.”  
She sighed. “No. I am not okay. Philip is relieved, Her Majesty is overjoyed, and I just want to scream that it isn’t true. But it isn’t my place to tell them. And it certainly isn’t Richards’s.”  
“Richards? Senator Richards? What’s he got to do with this?”  
“Who else could it be? Who else could possibly have the motive to leak those tapes?”  
“Well, you spring to mind.”  
“I’m not under a deadline, Pez. Richards is. The election. And I hope and pray that that old ghoul loses it.”  
“Well, Henry and Alex seem to have this under control, although my sources tell me that both parties are absolutely miserable.”  
“I know. And that just makes the waiting even worse.”  
“Waiting for what?”  
“Those Beekman tapes are just the tip of the iceberg. Mark my words.”

Her words were marked. Oh, how she hated being right.  
The emails. The photos. The lockdowns.  
And the worst part of it all, Philip still sided with the queen. She may have hated being right, but she hated being wrong even more.  
She felt so small, so alone.


	5. Chapter 5

Philip finally came back home, after spending the night camping in the Kensington garden. Suit all askew, hair dreadfully uncombed, grumbling and mumbling about Henry and Alex and scandal and legacy, completely oblivious to the tight little ball his wife had become on their bed.  
“The blasted, terrible, hormonal, foolish, childish, horrible little _coward_!”  
“HENRY IS _NOT_ A COWARD!” Her voice came out high and loud. Mazzy had had enough. “Can’t you see that this is the _bravest_ thing he has ever done! Standing up, once and for all, to queen and country so he can be himself! Making a legacy that is all his own! Just like _you_ dreamed of, all those years ago! I swear, Pippy, if he weren’t gay, and you didn’t exist, he would be my king, not you! And he certainly looks the part!”  
“Mazzy, I cannot handle this right now. I have an audience with Gran, and—”  
“ _F-ck_ the queen! _F-ck_ her in the _-rse_ all the way to _hell_!”  
“Martha!”  
“She tore you to pieces, Philip!” Mazzy was crying and shaking and shouting and making a frightful scene in general. Good. Maybe it would distract the world from the mess she made of Henry’s life. “Shattered you into a thousand tiny shards. And you’ve never been the same since. She used your g– your _goddamned_ bleeding heart to mould you into her perfect heir, so you would– you would _sh-t_ all over your brother and sister and mother for her. And I have had it, you coward!” She couldn’t shut her mouth in time, so she went for option two, the last second word swap.  
Philip didn’t notice this time. Not what mattered. “I– I am not a coward.”  
Relief. “Well, you’re sure as heck acting like it.”

Mazzy refused to attend the audience with the queen. Her fight with Philip drained her too much. Instead, she called Pez.  
“Well, this is a surprise.”  
“Tell me some good news. Lie if necessary.”  
“Well, I would, but I won’t have too. Look up ‘international support for Henry and Alex’.”  
She did.  
That’s it world. Prove that dragon wrong.

Philip came back with a lap full of tea.  
“What did you do?” his wife asked.  
“What did _I_ do?” Philip shot back, “ _Beatrice_ is the one who dumped all this tea in my lap. She said it was all the cocaine that did a number on her reflexes, but I don’t buy that for a minute! And I don’t think—”  
“ _What_ did you _do_?” Mazzy interrupted before the queen could be mentioned.  
“I’m telling you, _I_ didn’t do anything, this was Beatrice. Really, shouldn’t you be more worried about the effects of hot tea on the family jewels, seeing as how you are so determined—”  
“ _What did you do?_ ” she asked again, incredibly cross at how Philip was avoiding the question.  
He noticed. He caved. “Mum came back,” he whispered. He bowed his head in shame, tears welling in his eyes. “Mum came back and all I could do was think about all the ways it would ruin everything. All the work I put in to make myself king. To– to make my father king.” He collapsed into a ball of tears.  
Mazzy caught him. “You insufferable, self-centered, infuriatingly endearing curmudgeon.”  
“Oh god, Mazzy, you were right. You’re always right, but I just didn’t want it to be true. She’s such a terrible person. She made me do terrible things to my brother and sister and mother. I sh-t all over them, just like you said, and I sh-t all over you when you told me the truth. Oh, how can I ever make it up to you.”  
“Well, at this point, I’d say Henry and Alex’s wedding is inevitable.”  
“Meaning?”  
“I’m feeling malicious.” A mischievous grin spread wide across Mazzy’s face. “How would you feel about a cake smashing?”


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Queen Mary III is Queen Mary "III" because it is implied that RW&RB's British royal history doesn't diverge from ours until around Edward VIII (the "f-cking Nazi" Henry refers to in his row with Philip). This makes this Queen Mary the third Queen Mary in her own right (after Bloody and William &), assuming neither George VI nor Elizabeth II (since she would would have been reigning at least 65 years by the events of the book, not the 47 Queen Mary claims) were replaced with a Mary. 
> 
> I'm a little unsure what divergences created Mary Mountchristen-Windsor and put her on the throne, but I'm sure they were wild and/or tragic.

A few days later, the phone rang at Anmer Hall. It was the queen. Mazzy and Philip argued over who should answer. In the end it was Philip.  
“Hello, Gran.”  
…  
“Yes, yes, I see.”  
…  
“I’m sorry, Gran, but Mum has made her position very clear, Henry is to come out.”  
…  
“What d’you mean she’s ‘got’ to me? Of course she’s ‘got’ to me, she’s my mother!”  
…  
“Yes, I know that you’re my grandmother, but you don’t really act like it.”  
…  
“That’s the point, Gran. Mum _hasn’t_ been acting like it, but she’s acting like it _now_ , after years of all-consuming grief! I’m not going to lose her again so soon.”  
…  
“Yes, I am on your side, Gran. That’s why I’m telling you to _let this happen_. Mum will tear you to pieces if you don’t, and if she doesn’t, the public sure will. And I’ve taken a poll of Parliament. A surprising number of peers and MPs are actually in favor of Henry courting Alexander.”  
…  
“Don’t believe me? Ask them yourself. Honestly, mind you. Don’t threaten them with treason for saying anything you don’t agree with.”  
…  
“Yes, sure, fine, we’ll talk about this later. Goodbye.”  
It’s a good thing Mazzy loved the quaint little bell-and-cord phones, because it gave a magnificent crash as Philip hung it up in anger. She smiled at that.  
“Don’t look so smug. I’m still angry about what you’ve done.”  
“About what _I’ve_ done!" Mazzy protested. "What have I done?”  
“Sent Gran straight to the edge. It will take all I can bear to make sure she doesn’t strip us of our titles.”  
“She can’t do that without Parliament's approval. And you’ve already ascertained that they won’t approve, not if you side with Henry.”  
“I know, I know, but it still makes me a little jumpy.”  
“And besides, what else can she do? Un-bury Prince Arthur?”  
“Don’t scare me like that!”  
“Sorry dear.”  
Philip twitched in his seat.  
“Would you mind coming with me when I talk to Gran?" he asked suddenly. "I don’t feel I can do it alone.”  
“I can’t make any promises, but I will try.”  
“Thank you, Mazzy dear.”  
“Any time, Pippy dear.”

The following week, Their Royal Highnesses, Duke Philip and Duchess Martha of York, met with Her Majesty, Queen Mary III of Great Britain and Northern Ireland, at Buckingham Palace.  
Mazzy surveilled her future home. It was gorgeous, but in desperate need of renovations. Nothing a new queen couldn’t fix.  
They met in the same room where Beatrice dumped the tea on Philip. She was going to have to figure out some way to even that out. Yes it was necessary, but still.  
The queen performed the same agonizing ritual over her tea she always did. The duchess took the time to pour her own. Philip was too nervous for tea, and insisted the pot be kept away from him.  
“Good evening, Philip. Martha,” the queen finally said. She took a delicate sip of her tea, then focussed her attention on the duchess. “So grateful you could grace me with your presence this time, dear.”  
“I am not doing this for you, Your Majesty.” The duchess took her own delicate sip of tea. The game was afoot. “I am here for my Philip.”  
“Do you not mean my Philip? He is, after all, a product of my loins. You simply married him.”  
“I would rather say he is a product of your grand-loins, if you will pardon the neologism. And Princess Catherine, despite her grief, had definitely agreed to let me have my Philip.”  
The queen harrumphed at that. “In any case, I simply cannot allow Henry to choose this life. It is horrible and sinful and—”  
“Pardon me, Your Majesty,” Philip interjected, “but you are aware that the vast majority of bishops in the Church no longer agree with that sentiment?”  
“Who cares what the bishops think? Who cares even what the Archbishop thinks? I am the Queen, the Defender of the Faith, and what I say goes.”  
“Excuse me, Your Majesty,” the duchess said, “are you saying you speak for God?”  
“Well, He isn’t saying anything.”  
Husband and wife exchanged glances.  
“I see that that has not convinced you.” The queen put down her teaspoon. “Maybe this will make it clearer. You are my heir by my authority alone. As far as I am concerned, Lancelot and your mother were not fit to be married.”  
“How dare you!” Philip leapt up from his seat. “How _dare_ you besmirch my mother’s, your own _daughter’s_ , honour in this way! And his name was Arthur!”  
“ _Prince_ Arthur!” his wife added.  
“Furthermore,” Philip continued, “it no longer matters, has never mattered, how far you are concerned. You have always recognized, by Act of Parliament, Mum and Dad’s marriage as valid, if morganatic, and it would take another Act of Parliament to revoke that. And then you decreed, at my behest, the marriage to no longer be morganatic, as was your prerogative, which, again, would take an Act of Parliament to revoke! And I have made absolutely certain that you will not be able to get any such Act through!”  
The queen desperately changed tacks. “Philip, dear, I have done so much for you—”  
“No you haven’t! You twisted me up and tore me to pieces, and I will not let you hold this over me anymore! I refuse to be the coward you made me!”  
At this, Mazzy sent her hand beneath the table to catch Philip’s and steady his nerves. It was a welcome anchor.  
“Why are you so petulant, Philip?” the queen asked. “I would expect this sort of thing from Catherine, or Beatrice, not you.”  
“I have my mother back, Gran. _I have her back!_ I will not lose her again. And if that means abandoning you to the wolves, then so be it. But I hope and pray that that is not the case.”  
The queen looked down at her teacup. Then she looked back up, staring daggers at her grandson. “I suppose you don’t leave me much choice, do you.”  
“Oh, you have a choice, Gran. You have always had a choice. Perhaps today you will make the right one.”

Out in the hall, Pippy and Mazzy stole a loving embrace, tumbling over each other into one of the many tapestries.  
“I love you so much, my dear,” Philip whispered into his wife’s ear.  
Mazzy cuddled her husband closer. “I love _you_ so much, _so_ much.”  
“So, Mazzy, how are we going to smash that cake?” A mischievous grin grew wide across his face.  
“ _So_ much!”  
Mazzy finally had her darling Pippy back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Philip's line at the end of his conversation with Queen Mary (and her line leading up to it) is a deliberate echo of his mother's line in her conversation with the queen. 
> 
> Yes, I know he wasn't there for that. That just makes it more poignant.

**Author's Note:**

> Did you know there's a law on the British books that says the Sovereign must approve any royal marriage for it to be valid? 
> 
> That line about "how the queen forbid it, but she [Princess Catherine] married him [Arthur Fox] anyway" got me thinking, as well as the fact that the difference between the age she met her husband (23) and the age she claims at the end of the book (60) is less than the 47 years Queen Mary claims to have reigned. 
> 
> If Queen Mary III, as the Sovereign, truly forbade the marriage, then Philip and Beatrice and Henry would be legal bastards and therefore "naturally dead" (barred from succession). So how could Philip and Henry and Beatrice be in line for the throne?  
> Compromise!
> 
> The Act of Parliament Philip mentions, the one that declared Catherine and Arthur's marriage as valid but morganatic, but also able to be converted by decree of the Sovereign, was the compromise I came up with. A little difficult to imagine in the wake of Wallis Simpson, but Arthur Fox seems like a good person, and definitely not "a f-cking Nazi".


End file.
